Camouflage

Chapter 51

Charlie stepped through the back door at a little after six to find his father standing at the sink, washing a plate. Alan looked surprised. "Charlie! What are you doing here? I thought you were out with Don."

Charlie looked at him blankly, although he felt a little hope stir. It was Thursday, though - they hadn't set any plans. "Out with Don?"

Alan frowned; he looked confused. "He met me for lunch today – he said he was going to pick you up after work and take you out to dinner. He didn't call?"

Just like that, the hope deflated, and seemed to leave an even bigger hole in its place. Not only had Don apparently dodged a third promise to meet with him, but he had managed to find time to lunch with his father. There was a definite pattern there. Charlie shook his head.

"He must have gotten held up," said Alan. "He did say that they are pretty busy with that Malibu case. He'll probably stop by here later, then."

Charlie just shrugged out of his backpack and carried it into the dining room, where he zipped it open and pulled out his papers and his laptop. His father was trying to smooth it over, but he very much doubted that he'd be seeing Don that evening, or any time soon.

"I didn't fix dinner because I didn't think you would be here," his father called after him. "I just made myself a sandwich – do you want one?"

"Not yet," Charlie called back. "I'll make one when I'm ready." The fact was, he had no appetite – nothing seemed to hold the appeal that it used to have – not food, not teaching, not research…

He worked for a couple of hours, and then he'd had enough for the day – he didn't have the energy or the will to do more. It was past eight, and dark outside. The koi pond was calling.

He closed his laptop and rose, heading for the kitchen. His father had moved to the living room and he called after him from his chair, "Don't forget to eat something!"

"That's what I'm doing," said Charlie. It was a lie, but he sighed and changed course and went out and made himself a sandwich, and brought it out to the pond with him. He ate about a quarter of it, and then fed the rest to the koi. There was a light in the water at one end of the in the pond, and he could see them swimming, snaking around, could see each bit of sandwich float for a moment before it was gone in a swirl of water, the flash of a scaly side caught by the moonlight.

It was peaceful out here; and watching the koi, he could let everything float away. He didn't have to think, didn't have remember; didn't have to worry about how to handle his new life, how to try to find ways to put meaning into every-day tasks that no longer held the joy they used to have. He came out here almost every night now – Friday being the exception. The past two Fridays he had made plans to go out, only to have his brother cancel their plans at the last minute. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to admit to his father that they had fallen through – and he was so dismayed by the apparent rejections that he needed something to take his mind off of it – so he had snuck around back and a grabbed his bike, and escaped to his office on campus, and tried to keep from ruminating on the disappointment by diving into work. Tomorrow was Friday, but he hadn't tried to call Don yet to make plans, and he wasn't sure if he would try again or not. It was apparent that his brother was avoiding him. Or couldn't be bothered. Or maybe, he was just too busy with a new case. No matter what the reason, Charlie couldn't make him show up, just because he wanted to get together. There was probably no point in asking - and opening himself up for another rejection.

He was aware that he was probably depressed, and that maybe some of it had to do with the traumatic events he'd just been through, but he didn't care enough to try to seek help. The fact was, he didn't think it would do him much good, anyway – maybe some of how he was feeling was triggered by what happened, however the bigger issue was not the temporary disruption caused by the poisoning and his recent illness, as painful and frightening as it had been. The real problem was the permanent change to what he'd come to consider his normal life. There was nothing a therapist could do about that – a doctor couldn't change the new normal. And the new normal sucked.

He heard the rumble of an engine out on the street and then the slam of a vehicle door, but didn't think too much of it until he saw movement in the square of light that was the kitchen window. It was Don – he was in the kitchen, and he could see him talking to their father, saw them both glance at the darkness outside, where he was sitting. He didn't think that they could see him in the dark, but he turned away from them and looked at the pond so they wouldn't see him watching them, just in case. After a few moments, the back screen door slammed, and he glanced sideways and saw his brother heading across the lawn toward him. He shook himself and sat up, feeling a slight anticipation, and at the same time, dread, and… pain. There was no other way to describe it. Their discussions were so awkward lately, and it had become obvious that Don was trying to distance himself. There was no reason to expect anything out of this conversation. No reason at all.

He slid over on the bench to make room with barely a glance at his brother, and Don sat down beside him, with a short but amiable enough, "Hi". He had brought out four beers, two for him and two for Charlie, so he was planning on staying for a little while, anyway. He popped the top on one and handed it to Charlie, and Charlie took it.

"Nice night," said Don. "Dad says you've been coming out here a lot."

Charlie was taking a sip of beer, and he tried not to wince. Dad hadn't needed to tell him that. "Yeah," he said, and silence fell. Something seemed to be driving Don – it seemed as though something was on his mind; he wasn't relaxed. There was a sense of purpose to his posture, his demeanor, as if he wanted to say something. Don took a swig of beer, and looked at him.

"You doing okay?"

Charlie took an answering swig and shrugged. "Yeah, fine." Don didn't really care. He was just making small talk.

Don sighed deeply, and said, "Charlie, you're not fine. Neither am I, for that matter, but we aren't getting anywhere without being truthful with each other."

"What?" Charlie eyed him, cautiously. He could see Don's face clearly in the moonlight, could see an unusual amount of emotion in it, and he stared. His brother had his full attention, now.

Don gave a shake of his head. "Well, I'm going to start – right now. Complete transparency. I never told you I didn't get the message you left me the day of the surgery. The message started – you said "Hi Don -, and that was it, and then it cut out. My voice mailbox was full from everyone trying to get hold of me all day." He paused. "I have to tell you, when I realized I wasn't going to hear what you had to say, well, that was a really bad moment."

Charlie stared at him, taken aback. What was making him bring this up, after so many weeks – and wow, that was… well, it put a new light on things. Don hadn't intentionally disregarded his almost-dying wish. He felt a little bit of the hollow feeling in his gut diminish.

Then Don said, "And – full disclosure – I read your message today, in your office." Charlie felt his gut flip-flop, and a flush rose to his face. Granted, the note itself had been meant for Don, but the scribbles underneath – those were thoughts not meant for anyone else.

"I didn't mean to," Don continued, "I was just looking for a piece of paper to write on, to leave you a note – I stopped by your office this afternoon to see if you wanted to go out to dinner or something, but you weren't there. I waited for a while, and then figured I'd head here and wait for you. I couldn't find any notepaper on top of your desk – you need to get some Post-it notes or something, buddy – and then I opened your drawer. The paper was folded – I thought maybe it was a left-over blank sheet, and I opened it. I caught my name at the top and read the first couple of sentences before I could stop myself, and then I realized it was the message you had tried to leave me that day, so I figured it was okay to read the rest of it." He stopped, and Charlie could see the glimmer of moisture in his brother's eyes, even in the moonlight.

Don cleared his throat, and said, more quietly. "That was an amazing note, buddy. And I love you, too."

Charlie turned and looked at the koi and took a big gulp of beer – he had to, because tears were stinging his own eyes now. He never in a million years thought he would hear Don say that - at least out loud. He wanted to say something in return, but he couldn't get the words out. It didn't matter, Don wasn't done talking.

"Anyway, Merrick called about then, and I had to go downtown – there was a shooting, so I had to scrap the dinner plans but I wanted to come and talk to you." Charlie swallowed hard; he'd managed to fight back the rest of the tears, but one traitorous drop had escaped his right eye and he surreptitiously wiped at his cheek, and chanced a sideways glance at his brother. Had he read the rest of that paper - all of his scribbling, or not? 'If he had, he must think I'm a nut-case,' he thought.

Don sighed. "Charlie, I knew you wanted to come back to work with me. I just didn't realize how badly you wanted it, until I read that note. And while I'm spilling my guts, here, you need to know that this hasn't been easy on me, either. While you were in the hospital, after your surgery -," and there Don's voice cracked, and he had to stop talking for a moment. Charlie shot him a shocked glance as Don bowed his head and rubbed his eyes, then took a deep breath, and looked back up at him, a single shiny wet trail tracing down his cheek, caught by the moonlight. "I almost lost it, Charlie. I thought you were going to die, and it was the worst moment of my life. I'm not good about talking about that kind of stuff, or showing it – but I still get nightmares about it. About you getting shot, or dying in the hospital – and all of it – I felt like all of it was my fault, because it was connected with my job. That's pretty hard to live with."

Charlie shook his head, cleared his throat and finally managed to speak. "It wasn't your fault. You can't think that." For a moment, he'd had the sense that maybe Don was going to give him another chance and ask him to come back, but now it seemed like the conversation was going the other way. He was glad, so glad, that Don was talking to him, but he was afraid that all of this was a prelude to a final rejection. He could feel anxiety start to crawl up his insides. 'Don't bring this up, if you're just going to say no again, and you're just giving me the reasons why,' he thought. 'I can't take hearing it again. Just stop here - while we're ahead.'

Don took a drink of beer, and shook his head. "Well, I do think that. I tell myself the same thing and it doesn't work. That sniper case we worked – the near miss that we never told Dad about? Well, that one bugged me for months afterward, and it wasn't nearly as bad as this." He looked at Charlie, with a plea for understanding on his face. "I'm in charge – I feel responsible for everyone on that team, but even more so for you. Not only are you my own brother, but you're not trained, like they are. You haven't signed up for possible combat situations, like they have. It would kill me if I lost one of them – and losing you would be infinitely worse. There's no way I'd ever forgive myself – and I made the decision not to have you back because I thought it was the best thing for both of us."

The words felt like a knife in the gut, and Charlie hung his head and looked back at the koi pond, trying to hide his expression. Why was Don bringing all this up again, if the answer was still no? After reading that note, he had to have some idea how much this hurt. He chugged the rest of his beer, deep swallows, trying to force down the lump in his throat. "You don't need to explain," he said, his voice shaking, even as he tried to keep control, tried to look like it didn't matter, his traitorously watering eyes fixed on the koi pond. He was desperate to get off the topic before he humiliated himself by breaking down completely. "I screwed up. I get it."

Don went silent for a second, but then he said gently. "No, Charlie, you don't. If by 'screwed up' you're talking about trying to tackle Murciano on the runway, well, yes, that was a bad decision. I do have to admit, though, that I think it was a brave thing to do - a really dumb thing to do, but it took guts. And if he hadn't had that gun and you managed to trip him up, we would have all been patting you on the back and calling you a hero, instead of freaking out that you'd almost been killed. I understand now that you did it because you were trying to impress me." He paused again, and Charlie could feel him looking at him, could see his brother's earnest expression out of the corner of his eye. "You don't have to prove yourself to me - I hope you know that."

Don looked at the pond, reflectively, and took a drink of beer. "And actually," he sighed, "I need to come to grips with the fact that my job could endanger you or dad, even if you weren't working cases. The cases make you a little more visible, but really, if anyone wanted to get to me, they could easily find out who my family was. Your poisoning ended up being a much bigger threat to your life than that incident out on the tarmac, and Murciano could very well have still decided to poison you as a distraction simply because you were a family member, whether or not you were working the Warriors investigation. So banning you from working FBI cases might not have the effect I want - especially since you're pretty visible in your own right, with your career, whether or not you consult for law enforcement." He shook his head soberly. "I'm not sure I can guarantee your safety - or Dad's either, because of what I do."

Charlie shook his head. "We don't expect you to. We worry all the time about you being safe." He had managed to fight back the tears, but could feel a deep sadness settling in his heart. He appreciated the fact that Don was opening up to him, trying to explain his rationale for banning him from consulting for him, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"I've been thinking a lot about this, Charlie – and not just because I read your note, but earlier, too. I've had a lot of mixed emotions. But tonight, reading your note did make me realize something. When I made working for the FBI my career, I did it because it was what I loved to do. Sure, my job can be risky, but I wasn't going to refuse to do it because of the risk, because it was what I wanted for my life. I realized tonight that I wouldn't let anyone else make that decision for me, but you were stuck, because I was in control. I am holding all of the cards – you didn't have that choice. And now I understand that it wasn't fair for me to make that decision for you, even if it makes me feel better about things - even if I thought it was in your best interest."

Charlie had been fighting back tears and a fresh wave of despair as Don talked, and it took a moment for that last sentence or two to sink in. He caught his breath and looked up. Did he mean to say that…

Don leaned back and swallowed the rest of his beer, and then took a deep breath. "And the truth is, I've been missing working with you, too. Actually, a lot. So – anyway, I'm ready to ask Merrick to sign a long term contract for you, if you want to come back."

Charlie straightened and whipped his head around and nearly choked, but he managed to get the words out. "You – I – yes! Yes – do you mean it? I want to come back."

A smile crept to Don's face at Charlie's reaction, but he held up a hand, sternly. "There are a couple of conditions here. You need to accommodate my feelings, too. Absolutely no field work – unless I specifically say so. You're going to spend most of your time in the office unless I say otherwise. And if a case starts to feel risky at all to me in terms of your involvement, I reserve the right to pull you from it – I don't care how involved you are in it, or how much you want to finish that last analysis. If I say 'quit, and we'll see you on the next case,' then you quit." His smile deepened. "And no tackling or otherwise beating up on any suspects."

Charlie nodded, emphatically, too caught up in his own excitement to respond appropriately to the humor in Don's last comment. "And no arguments – I won't argue with you."

Don grinned at his reaction. "Actually, Charlie, I realized that I really don't mind the arguments, as long they don't escalate into a shouting match. It's healthy for anyone on the team to be able to express their opinion." His smile turned teasing. "And I always win them anyway, because I'm the boss."

Charlie stared at him, and then a slow amazed smile came to his face, and he shook his head. "I – I still can't get over it. I just was not expecting you to say -" he waved his hand – "this."

Don grinned ruefully. "My team was wearing me down, even if you weren't complaining," he said. "They kept asking for you – I got tired of saying no."

Charlie's grin broadened. "They did?"

Don nodded emphatically. "Absolutely. They miss you – and they've been letting me know about it." He held Charlie's gaze steadily, smiling, and said more quietly, "And I do, too."

Charlie felt tears starting again, and looked back at the koi pond and choked out, "I miss you too." He looked up at Don, his eyes glimmering, and said, "And I meant every word I said in that message."

Don popped the top on the two remaining beers and handed one to Charlie, a smile on his face, trying to hide the dampness in his own eyes. "So, do you agree to all of the terms and conditions – can we drink to that?"

"I do," said Charlie, taking a deep breath. "And we can." He felt ridiculously happy – and a little loopy – the emotional swings and the beer were going to his head.

They touched cans and drank, and then Don said, briskly, "Now about Amita – what's going on there? Dad said she hasn't been over at all. I may not be a math wizard and be able to help you out on your job, but I may be able to help you out on the topic of women."

Charlie gaped at him, and then flushed. This was embarrassing - and he still was trying to get his head around the last conversation. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He looked back at the koi pond, and despite his discomfort, he realized that Don was trying to do something that they hadn't done before – to talk to each other about something personal – to have a real conversation about something other than work, or sports. It felt – odd, somehow, but he understood the intention, so despite the awkwardness of the subject, he forged ahead. "Uh, I don't know. It's strange. She kissed me in the hospital, but since I've been back, she's been really quiet, and seems to be avoiding me."

"Wait," said Don. "She kissed you in the hospital? Where?"

Charlie frowned at him, puzzled. "In my hospital room."

Don nearly choked on his beer, and he fought down a smile. "No, Charlie, I mean, where did she kiss you? Was it a friendly peck on the forehead, or was it on the lips?"

"Oh," said Charlie, wondering if Don could see him reddening in the moonlight. "Lips – it was – really nice," he finished lamely.

"And did you ever say anything to her about it? Acknowledge it at all?"

"N-no. I went in for the surgery, and then I was so sick for so long afterward, and then…. well, it never came up again."

Don smiled and shook his head. "Charlie, that's an easy one. She's probably feeling a little uncertain because you haven't really acknowledged it. Just kiss her back. I mean – you aren't really supposed to, right, because she's still a student, so be smart about it. Pick a place where you won't get caught. But kiss her back, and let her know how much you liked that first one."

Charlie looked at him, closely. "You're sure."

"Absolutely one hundred percent," said Don, with a grin. "Hey – I think Dad's probably feeling lonely in there – and we need to break the news to him. You want to head inside?"

"Sure," said Charlie. He stood, and he felt lighter, somehow, like a huge weight that had been pressing on him had suddenly been lifted.

They walked back in companionable silence to break the news to their father, and Charlie took a deep breath as they approached the house. What he'd thought of as rejection was Don's way of caring - his best attempt to keep him safe, and the thought of that made him both embarrassed that he'd so misread his brother, and relieved. He still couldn't quite believe it – was Don just humoring him? - and he again wondered if Don had read the rest of his notes on that page. His cheeks flushed red just thinking about it – all of his deepest emotional insecurities had been on display, if his brother had decided to read further. He shook off the thought – apparently not – Don hadn't mentioned it at all.

It was ridiculous, he told himself, as he had so often in the last few weeks, to let so much of his sense of self be dependent on another – but he couldn't deny how happy Don's decision had made him. Maybe that dependence wasn't healthy, maybe it was a character flaw, maybe it was tied to deep-rooted insecurities from childhood - but at the moment, he didn't care. And for all he knew about relationships, maybe it was okay to feel that way. Maybe that was how you were supposed to feel, when you cared about someone...

As they reached the back door, he glanced up to see Don smiling down at him, and suddenly everything seemed right with the world.


End, Chapter 51

Author's note - last chapter, coming up...